Coffee and Cigarettes
by KittyLover44
Summary: One a cold winter's day in December, two old friends get together and talk. They reflect on the past, the present and the future. Oneshot, but part of a series of 4 stories.


_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own any characters that may appear in this story. _

_Also, this story is written as if the __Friends Forever__ series didn't exist. _

**Coffee and Cigarettes**

I walk through the streets of New York, huddling into my black trench coat. I re-adjust the scarf I wrapped around my neck that morning. The truth is that I still find it hard to adjust to New York winters, despite growing up in Connecticut, which isn't that far from here. As I look at the snow and clouds around me, I can't decide whether the scene is depressing or romantic.

I decide to go with romantic, to keep in the context of what's happening that day. I'm meeting up with Logan, for the first time in awhile. It'll be nice to see him out of a hospital or funeral situation. Logan said that he had something important to discuss with me, some good news. After pondering it, I realized what it must be; _He's decided that he can't stand to be away from me, and he wants to get back together. _Like me, Logan had had a series of short flings, but nothing too serious. It made sense that he'd want to give our relationship another chance.

I approach the café that I planned to meet Logan at for coffee, and see the familiar blonde head and blue eyes looking back at me. I can't wait any longer and break into a run, jumping up and throwing myself into his body. Luckily Logan's prepared and he lifts me up into a hug, then sets me down gently. Logan gives me an almost critical once-over and I try not to flinch, despite how uncomfortable it makes me feel.

The inside of the coffee shop is full, so Logan leads me to a table for two outside and pulls the seat out for me to sit on. I do so, feeling my heart do a little flip-flop at the romantic gesture. He gives me a concerned look and asks,"How are you, Mary Anne?"

I know what he's really getting at with the question, but I play dumb. Now isn't the time to go into this. So I force a smile and say,"As good as can be expected, really."

"I know that you probably don't want to talk about it, but I have to say again that I can't believe your father's gone. I know you weren't that close to him, especially before the end, but I really feel for you, Mary Anne." Logan's words are so heartfelt that I feel my eyes well with tears, but I blink them back. Again, it's not the time for this.

"I still can't believe it, either. It's been almost ten months now, but when the phone rings, I still expect it to be him. I can't accept the fact that I'll never be able to talk to him again." I reach out for Logan's hand, for a sign of comfort. He hesitates a minute, then allows me to wrap my smaller hand around his bigger one.

"How's Sharon doing?" Logan presses on.

"She was starting to do okay, but then my moving kind of set her back a bit. I felt terrible, and still do, but I felt like it was my time to move on. Like if I didn't do it now, I never would. I've waited this long to forge my own path in life, my own identity. I couldn't wait any longer." I let out a breath I didn't realize that I was holding. I didn't mean to get this deep-and-meaningful, at least not this early in the conversation.

"It's okay, Mary Anne," Logan reassures me. "You do have the right to start your own life. I mean, you've never moved out and didn't go away to college…" Realizing he probably said the wrong thing, Logan quickly moved on.

"I've always wanted to see you follow your dream and go to New York. I'm just sad that it took a tragedy to make it happen."

"It's okay," I say, trying to force myself to believe it. "Like my therapist always says, you have to look on the bright side of everything. And this is the one advantage to what happened."

"So how do you like your new life?" Logan enquires, quickly trying to switch the conversation to a more positive topic.

"I love it," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. "My new apartment is only a two bedroom, but I paid it all off with Dad's inheritance, so I don't have to worry about rent or house repayments. It's so cozy. I love sitting outside on the balcony with a coffee and magazines, or just people watching…" _And with cigarettes, but I can't tell you that because I know how much you hate smoking. _

"That's great," Logan says, and signals a waitress over. He orders a flat white, and then turns to me. "What will you have, pussycat?"

His affectionate nickname for me makes my heart do that flip-flop thing again, and I smile endearingly at him. "Just a cappuccino for me, thanks."

I pull my purse out of my handbag but Logan waves his hands at me, and pulls his wallet out of his pocket. "This one's on me," he says with a wink. The waitress looks about ready to swoon, and she shares a _look_ with me. I giggle.

"Are you sure?" I ask, and he nods.

"Of course."

The waitress hurries off to fix our orders, and Logan turns back toward me. I regret that he's no longer holding my hand.

"How's Tigger doing?"

"He's great," I confirm, nodding. "I'm lucky that he's out of that kitten stage where he wants to jump and explore, now that I'm in an apartment. He's content just to lay around with me on the couch, or on the bed."

Logan smiles. "Sounds like everything's going pretty well for you. Well, almost everything. How are your classes going?"

I beam with pride. "Excellent. I've gotten through all of my core subjects and now I'm ready to start my major, which is elementary school teaching. I can't wait until I actually get placement in a school. Hopefully I'll get the kindergarten class!" I take a breath. "I was so lucky to get into NYU, considering my transcript. I mean, I've had three really disjointed years, what with Dad's death, and my… hospitalizations…" I falter over my last word. I hadn't meant to bring that up at all.

Logan doesn't draw attention to it, though. He merely says," It's good to see you passionate about something."

Before I can say anything, the waitress comes back with our coffees. I sip some of mine eagerly. Coffee is an anorexic's best friend. It fills you up, warms you up and gives you something to do with all of that nervous energy.

As if reading my mind, Logan asks," Do you want anything to eat? Lunch is on me, too, you know."

"No, I had a big breakfast," I say, though Logan knows me well enough to realize that I'm lying. He can see that my skin is translucent, my knuckles are almost protruding out of my slender fingers and my coat is virtually enveloping me. Quickly, I change the subject.

"So, how does it feel to be a fully qualified sportswriter? See, all that studying in college paid off." I try to keep my tone light-hearted. A fresh start means no angsting, no going into the ghosts of the past, those things that broke us up and kept us apart.

"It's great. I mean, I'm here because last night I covered the Knicks game. I guess that if you can't play, getting to see all the games and meeting all the star athletes is the next best thing." Logan's tone is jovial, but like mine, it doesn't completely hide all the sadness lurking underneath.

"I'm sorry that you can't play anymore, but at least you're making the most of it," I say sincerely. I know that it kills Logan that he had to give up pro football after he twisted his knee bone and had to have it reset. I was by Logan's side when he came out of all of his surgeries, just the way he was with me when I was in hospital. Well, initially, anyway. I stood by him as he had to learn to walk again. I'm so proud of how far he's come.

"Yeahhhhh…" Logan's voice trails off, and I can sense that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

"So, it's time to be honest, Mary Anne. How have you really been? I have to say that I'm impressed with how well you're dealing with your Dad and the move to New York. Though I can't help but worry that deep down, you're still really upset. You have to be honest with me."

I'm touched that Logan is so concerned about me. Maybe it's because we're soulmates, or perhaps it's just his caring nature. Either way, I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

"Thanks, but really, I'm fine. This is the move that I needed to make a fresh start. You're looking at a new and improved Mary Anne!" I exclaimed, taking another sip of my coffee.

"Are you sure?" Logan asks, almost tentatively. I can see that he doesn't believe me, and I can't say that I blame him. The Mary Anne that he's known for the last few years has never been this confident or contented.

"Yes," I say, punctuating this with a smile.

"Okay," Logan says, and draws a breath. He looks hesitant, and I realize that _this _is the moment. _The Moment. _Logan is going to profess his love to me. He's just making sure that I'm strong enough for a relationship, that he doesn't put too much pressure on me. I notice that the café has replaced that normally irritating CD of lounge music with some vintage Celine Dion. It's even warmed up a little outside. It's like all of the elements of this atmosphere have come together to make this a perfect, romantic moment.

I smile reassuringly at Logan, encouraging him to go on.

"See, the thing is… remember last year, when I told you that I met that girl, Jessica? She was in my Advanced Writing class," Logan looks at me for confirmation, and I nod expectantly. I did remember Logan telling me something about another girl when he saw me during my last hospitalization, though I was pretty out of it then.

"Well, things are getting serious with us. She wanted to move in with me, but I wanted to do things the old-fashioned way. I was so confident that she's the one, so I went to her father and asked for her hand in marriage. He said yes, so I organized a night with her…" Logan continues to speak, but I no longer hear any of it.

It's hard to put into words the way that I feel. It's like the base of my world has dropped out, that the chair under me has gone and I'm floating in midair, still in my sitting position. I'm too numb to even cry. Words crash in unformed sentences within my brain, but I can't put any of the thoughts together. _I thought… but you've been so… we were meant to be… _

So I do the only thing that is registering. With my shaking hands, I rifle through my handbag and find my lighter and cigarettes. _Longbeach Ultra Fine, 1 milligram. _Ignoring everything around me, including Logan, I light up. As soon as the smoke travels down my throat, I feel a little better. I take comfort in the familiar habit.

I realize that Logan has stopped talking. He's looking at me with a shocked look on his face.

"You've started _smoking?" _he asks incredulously. "But, Mary Anne… _why?" _

There is no simple answer. _Because that's what it takes to lose weight. Because that's what it takes to survive an inpatient eating disorders facility once you've lost __too much__ weight. _But I don't say that. Instead, I reply snappishly," Well, I guess that we don't know each other as well as we think, do we?"

Logan still looks surprised. He opens his mouth but before he can say anything, I cut him off. Anger is beginning to take over me. "Besides, why do you think that you can just stereotype me in that way? Like, _'Oh, Mary Anne was such a goody-goody at school, she's just this mousy little girl, why would __she __be smoking?" _

Logan's expression changes to one of confusion. "I was just taken aback, that's all. I mean, you and Dawn used to be so anti-smoking. Remember when Dawn's friend in California lost her Mom to lung cancer?"

Thinking of Sunny's Mom makes me feel guilty, and my anger dissolves a little. I realize that the smoking thing was just, well, a _smokescreen_ (no pun intended). It was just the welcome distraction that I needed from the real issue, which is that Logan had just ripped my heart out and stomped all over it.

"You're right, it's probably is a silly habit. Anyway, tell me about the wedding," I say, although I can barely get the words out.

"Well, it's going to be a springtime wedding," Logan says. He gestures around us to the overcast sky and blizzard that's taking place. I let my mind wander back to a time when weather like this seemed _romantic. _

Logan stops talking, and I say the first thing that comes into my mind. "Christmas is coming up soon. Now that Thanksgiving is over, they've put all of the decorations up. Isn't Christmastime in New York the most beautiful thing in the world? Skating on the ice and the lighting up of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center?"

Logan looks confused, seeing as he's just been talking about his impending wedding. But he doesn't let on, he just humors me.

"You're right. Maybe Jessica and I can come up and see you and do all of those things with you when Christmas gets closer."

I force a smile. "Yes, maybe you can." How did we even get into this conversation? I couldn't meet this _Jessica_ because that would make her real. Right now, for all I know, she's just a figment of Logan's imagination. Besides, I didn't really care about Christmas. I couldn't swap presents with Dad, and I had no intention of eating the traditional Christmas meal we normally cooked.I had numbed myself with starvation and antidepressants for so long that it felt like I had forever lost the ability to be enthusiastic about anything.

"Mary Anne?" Logan is asking. Quickly, I voice my thoughts again.

"What about getting married in Stoneybrook? We all have such good memories of that place. Then you can be close to your parents, and all of the people we used to know in Stoneybrook can attend." I nod my head, agreeing with the strange idea that was forming. "I can't think of a nicer time in our lives than when we were living in Stoneybrook."

Logan is giving me that puzzled look I'm becoming used to. I can't say I blame him. I don't know what's come over me. It's not as if I can stop the wedding. Still, it's like my mind is taking me through all these strange thoughts I've been repressing for so long. The numbness is wearing off and giving way to other, unfamiliar emotions.

"Well, all of Jessica's family lives in…" As soon as Jessica's name is mentioned, I switch off again. I'm not trying to be rude; it's almost a subconscious thing that I don't realize I'm doing, a defense mechanism for my brain and my heart. Like the reference to Stoneybrook. Being with Logan today, just two friends talking, is making me remember how nice it was in the eighth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School. The whole Baby-Sitters Club was together, before Mallory left and my house burnt down and I split up with Logan. Sure, we got back together again, but it wasn't the same. And it didn't last.

Logan must have sensed my aversion to anything Jessica related, because he steers the conversation back to me. "So, do you still talk to anyone from the BSC?"

I shake my head. "Not really," I answer. "We're just all so busy. Kristy has started student teaching at a school at Stamford, Claudia is doing her major work for her final year of fashion design school, Jessi jumps from one production to another with the American Ballet Company, Stacey has opened her boutique in Stoneybrook, Mallory thinks a publisher is interested in her book…" My voice trails off as I hear myself speak. Everyone is doing something in their life but me.

"I'm glad everyone is doing so well for themselves. There was always so much talent in the BSC," Logan says, reading my mind, as always.

"Except for me, right?" I say, before I can stop myself. I don't mean to be jealous of my former best friends, but it's hard. I always felt like everyone in the BSC had some God-given talent but me. I was just the mousy, wimpy one that everyone felt sorry for.

"That's not what I meant," Logan murmurs, and I can tell he's trying not to get annoyed. "What about Dawn?"

"I talk to Dawn regularly. She's loving her course in Enviro Science. I'm glad she stayed in California to go to school. It really is her home," I say. I don't want to tell Logan that the other members of the ex-BSC had tried to keep in contact, but it was too hard for me to make the effort. When you're so bent on self-destruction, you push away everyone who tries to help. Well, in my case, except for Logan.

"That's great," Logan says. The waitress returns to take our empty coffee cups, and we decline her offer of anything else from the menu.

Logan turns back to me and says," Well, I guess that I'd better go. I just wanted to catch up, and to share my good news with you."

I have this feeling that if Logan goes, this will be the last time that I see him for a long time. Logan will get caught up with _Jessica_, and with his new career. He won't have any time for me, and why should he when he has a replacement? So I try to stall.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I answer, and without waiting for his reaction, run into the café and to the bathroom. It feels like the romantic music coming from the speakers is mocking me. I sit on the closed seat, wondering how to deal with all of this. I guess the best thing to do is accept that Logan is gone from my life, at least emotionally. It will be too hard to see him with someone else, anyway.

With this in mind, I exit the bathroom and come back outside to where Logan is waiting. "Where are you parked?" I ask, now clutching at straws. "I'll walk you."

Wordlessly, Logan starts leading the way. I follow him through the busy streets of New York City, until we reach Logan's car, in a quiet side street. It's a convertible, which surprises me, because he's never mentioned anything about buying a better car. _He's forgetting me already_, I think bitterly. I eye the car and imagine another girl riding in the front seat. It could be me, sitting there like a trophy wife and not having to work, just going to games and functions with Logan. It's not fair.

Suddenly, I can't keep it in any longer. It's now or never. Everything I've been wanting to say comes crashing out in one long verbal explosion.

"Why wasn't it me, Logan?" I demand. The tears I've been holding in also come out, in hot, angry torrents. "We've been like soul mates forever. We always have a great time together, we laugh at each other's jokes, we finish each other's sentences… It's not fair! I've waited for you to come back to me for so long! I've laid in hospital beds, thinking about the time when you would come in and commit to me, and everything would be okay again. Like it was back in the eighth grade. It wouldn't matter that I've failed at everything I've ever tried, or that I'm no one special, because I would mean the world to you. So, why, Logan? Why, why, why?"

Logan doesn't look surprised by my outburst. In fact, he looks more annoyed than anything. He pulls a remote out of his pocket and unlocks the doors. "Get in," he commands, and as always, I obey. We shut the doors behind us, and I wipe my eyes with a tissue from my handbag. I also pull out a cigarette and open the window before lighting it up, deciding my need for stress relief is more important than my hatred for the cold.

Logan pretends not to notice as he takes a deep breath, and I can tell he's choosing his words carefully. "Mary Anne," he says slowly, "I had a feeling this would happen, and that's why I told you my news the way that I did. You're not going to want to hear this, Mary Anne, but I've made it clear for some time now that I don't want anything more than friendship with you. Unfortunately, you've got the idea that we were meant to be together, and you've been bending everything I do to suit that notion. I'm sorry that I've disappointed you, but I refuse to take responsibility for this again. I didn't ask you to put your plans on hold for me, or not to date other guys. You're just going to have to accept that I've moved on, and do the same."

Despite Logan's harsh words, I manage to stem the flow of tears down to just a sniffle. "You didn't answer my question. What did I do wrong? Why wasn't it me?" I insist.

At this, Logan's face softens a little. He replies," I know what you're thinking. It's because you're not thin enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough or good enough. But it's got nothing to do with that. It's not because you're not graduated from college yet, either, or because you're still not sure of what you want to do with yourself. So I won't have you putting yourself down over this, okay?"

I nod, although I don't completely believe him. My eyes are filled with unshed tears again.

"The truth is that I just don't feel that way about you anymore," Logan continues. "What we had in junior and senior high is a great memory now, but that's all it is; a memory. I see you as more of a sister to me than anything else. I guess you could say that I've moved on to a different place in my life."

My tears spill over once again. I stub out my cigarette and toss it out the window, which I then do up with the press of a button. I shiver under my oversized jacket. "So you've moved on in your life and I haven't, right?" I ask bitterly. "I'm still in the same place emotionally as I was when I first got sick a few years ago?"

"Well, that's a big part of it. Though I think that if your issues didn't break us up in the twelfth grade, we would have split anyway," Logan opines, but my mind is stuck on certain words. I keep hearing 'your issues' over and over again, and my frustration builds.

"So you can't be with me because I'm sick?" I press, continuing to wipe tears away. I remember when Logan used to comfort me when I cried. Now he is the cause of the tears.

Logan sighs. "Well, that is part of the problem. Everyone else has moved out, moved on, is pursuing their own paths in life. You're still stuck in the eighth grade and you're still sick. You've had all of this time to sit around and obsess over what's gone wrong with your life, and what you wish you had. Maybe if you didn't spend so much time living in the past – "

I cut Logan off abruptly. "I know, I know. My being sick is all my fault. As if I _chose_ to get sick. I should just snap my fingers and feel better, right? Put a smile on my face and that will make the depression go away? Shove a calorie-laden chocolate bar in my mouth and, boom! Eating disorder cured!"

Logan shakes his head quickly. "That's not what I –"he starts to say, but I plow on.

"Everyone seems to think it's that easy, but it's not. Like all of the therapists say, I have the type of personality that attracts these problems. I'm shy, quiet, a perfectionist. I lost my Mom when I was young and didn't have a mother figure until I was thirteen. Then there was the upheaval of losing Jeff and Dawn to their father. I had to try to fill their shoes for Sharon. And, of course, the control issues with my father. I developed an eating disorder as a way of trying to cope with doing my SAT exams. Then just when things are getting better, my grandmother passes away, then my Dad. Don't I have the right to feel a little down, to want to reflect on better times a little?" I finish.

Logan nods slowly. "Mary Anne, I'm not trying to be insensitive. All I'm saying is that I want you to try your hardest to get better and move on, for your sake. I feel like you're missing out on your life here. I just want you to be happy."

I grab another tissue to wipe my face, although my sobs had subsided. I nod. "I am trying, you know," I say defensively. "But… I know what you mean. You just have to try to understand it from my perspective. I've had issues with depression since I started seeing Dr Reece in the eighth grade, I just didn't know what I was dealing with or why. And now that I've dredged all of these past issues up, I need to deal with them head on. It's hard to change your view on something when you've been feeling a certain way for so long. Some things are just harder to deal with than others."

Logan nods. "I understand that," he says. "Just… take care of yourself, Mary Anne. Will you promise me that?"

"I promise to _try_," I answer. "And that's the best that I can do at the moment."

"Fair enough," Logan agrees. He glances at his watch. "Oh, shit, it's getting late. I've got a fair drive back to Boston." He leans over and kisses my cheek. "I'm glad we talked, Mary Anne."

"Me, too," I say honestly. I kiss Logan back, on the cheek. I step out of the car and shut the door, then quickly open it back up as an afterthought.

"Do you think that there's hope for me?" I ask Logan pleadingly.

He smiles. "Of course I do, Mary Anne. You'll be fine. You just have to believe it yourself."

I shut the door and wave as Logan drives away, out of New York and possibly out of my life. I start to walk home, pondering everything that's happened that day. It feels as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I look up to the sky and notice that it's stopped snowing, and the sun is trying to peek through the clouds. _Maybe it __is__ going to be okay, _I think to myself.

**A/N:**_ This was very painful to write as it felt very autobiographical. Speaking of, I'm sure you don't have Longbeach cigarettes in America, but that's what I smoke here in Australia so I went with it. _


End file.
